Home
by TJ Robinson
Summary: Nothing can seperate us from where we have been or where we are going, because those places are the ones that help us find the way back home... even when we don't know what home is.


A/N: I originally posted this on a Pokémon forum, and now I've decided to post it on here. Yippee.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

**Home**

Where was home?

Sure he had a lab, but it wasn't his home.

His parents had raised him in a house, no doubt, but even he couldn't call that his home.

His real home... where could it be?

"Professor?"

Frustrated that he had been startled from his thoughts, he hastily turned around and responded, "Yes, Tracey?"

Tracey was taken aback and his voice trembled as he spoke. "I-I was just wondering, since m-my mother's birthday is coming up in a f-few days, if I c-could go home?"

Professor Oak smiled and said, "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Tracey. I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess."

Tracey nodded. "So, could I go and see my mother for her birthday?"

"Certainly."

"Thanks Professor! I won't be there long, I swear. Just a day or so."

The Professor shook his head. "A day? Nonsense. Tracey, I'll give you a week's vacation. You haven't seen you parents in...what? Five or six months, I suppose?"

"Actually, it's been about two years, Professor."

"It's been that long?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's no need for me to keep you here any longer. Go home, Tracey." He motioned towards the door.

"Thanks again, Professor!"

"Give your mother my best."

"Will do!"

Tracey slammed the door shut; his footsteps echoed through the laboratory as he ran up the stairs to pack. The Professor heaved a sigh and then frowned. He glanced outside. The skies were dark; a storm was approaching. He turned away and started to walk out of the lab.

_Well, at least now I'll have time to figure this out_, he thought.

* * *

The house shook as thunderstorms passed through the skies, the vibrations and flashes startling Professor Oak from a sound sleep. He sat up in his bed and checked the clock. 

_1:30 in the morning. What a time to wake up._

He had gone to bed early, unable to find something with which to occupy himself. He had already taken care of all the Pokémon and he was too shaky to do any experiments. So, he figured with nothing else to do, sleep was the best answer. He lay back down on the pillow and focused his sight on the bookshelf, which was parallel to his bed. A certain book caught his eye. He walked over and took it out of the shelf, only to realize that it was his old sketchbook.

Turning on the lamp beside his bed, he carefully opened the book and gazed at the faded drawings. A herd of Rapidash, a group of Bellossom, and a Pikachu and a Celebi resting on one another were among the sketches. And there was another.

He had flipped to the last page, and he gazed at the peculiar drawing. There were no Pokémon in it; the drawing was merely that of a place. There were trees as tall as the skies, while on the ground lay magnificent plant life – flowers and shrubs that he had never lay eyes on before – and it appeared that no creature had ever set foot upon the soft soil of the forest floor.

But if that was so, how could he have gotten this drawing? Was in it a dream? Did he imagine it?

More questions and no answers to follow them. The Professor sighed and put the sketchbook on his nightstand, then turned off the light, lay back, and drifted off into a serene sleep.

The storm raged on...

* * *

Clud. Clud. Clud. 

_How do I get out?_

Clud. Clud.

_I need to get home._

Clud.

_Let me out!_

He slammed into the window, and as it shattered, he stumbled out into the stormy night.

Blood mixed with rain, and he felt lightheaded. Something was pulling him, and he couldn't seem to find control. So he just kept walking.

The Professor walked across the pastures where the Tauros ran, around the pond where the water Pokémon swam, over the hill that separated his property from the woods and walked into the wilderness with no sense of what he was doing or where he was going. The falling rain prevented his wounds from scabbing over. They kept bleeding, staining his torn pajamas a deep red.

And yet he didn't stop. He couldn't.

He kept walking out, farther and farther away from the familiar environments into places he had not been before. His body shook with cold; the cuts he gotten from the shattered glass burned at his nerves.

_Why did humans leave this place? _Professor Oak thought as he walked through the woods. _Why did we leave nature and build our own environments? Our environments are secluded and can be easily destroyed._

He managed to gain some control of his limbs and stopped to rest against a tree._ But nature... nature is open and rules over everything. Why did we close ourselves off from it?_

He involuntarily started walking again; his pace increased. The Professor looked around the woods, and though above the canopy of trees the storm persisted, the forest seemed almost... peaceful. And when he realized the presence of this peace, he immediately felt calm. He couldn't feel anything and the pain and the cold left his body.

In his state of relaxation, he asked himself, _Why were we so afraid of this place?_

Lightening struck a branch on a nearby tree and sent it falling to the ground, right near the Professor. He didn't notice.

The storm started to die down...

* * *

Professor Oak stepped into a large clearing and collapsed. His face pressed into the ground and he lay completely still. His breaths were short and irregular and his heart was beating rapidly. His wounds had finally scabbed over, but they made his pajamas stick to his skin, so that if he moved too much, the scabs would tear open and bleed again. 

But even so, he managed to stand up and look around. He was shocked by what he saw. He was there...he was at the place he had seen drawn in his sketchbook. He jerked back, and one his scabs on his arm broke open and started to bleed out. He grabbed his arm and fell to the ground.

The Professor looked through the trees towards the horizon; he could see that the storm had faded away to reveal the blood-red sunrise. He stared at the breaking sun and as he watched it rise up, he felt his eyes getting heavier; he let his arms fall to his sides, and soon the rest of body fell limp on the soft soil of the forest floor.

He was dying. His heart slowed and finally stopped, and yet he managed to smile.

After all, he had found his way home.


End file.
